


fall with me (through the raving light)

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kissing in the Rain, Meet-Cute, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Teaching, a lot of weird mystical background lore that i don't explain, cause i really just wanted to write the cute parts, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22313968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: Of course he fell head over heels for a priestess of Athena. Of course.He would just have to get control over himself. It was just a crush. A stupid silly crush. It would be over in a flash.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Chopped 1.0 Round 1





	fall with me (through the raving light)

_ This child of darkness, _

_ Shadows will yield, _

_ Til death they will face, _

_ With true love their shield _ .

Bellamy is intrigued. Definitely not infatuated, whatever Octavia might tease in her most knowing voice. Definitely not invested. Merely intrigued.

Bellamy leans over the counter with his most winning barista smile as he hands a hazelnut latte to the next customer. But he can’t deny his attention is on the golden-haired girl sequestered in the back corner booth. She’s furiously scribbling away at something on a notepad again, elbow drawing dangerously close to the half-full mug she seems to have forgotten.

“Miller! Cover me?” Bellamy calls to his co-worker, tossing his towel over one shoulder.

At Miller’s nod of assent, Bellamy slips around the countertop and quickly weaves his way back to the girl, just in time to haphazardly catch the mug as her elbow finally strays too far and the whole drink careens off the edge.

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry,” she gasps, a faint blush creeping up her porcelain skin. Bellamy can’t help but grin as he slides the mostly unharmed cup back onto the table and wipes a few droplets of coffee from his palms.

“No harm done. I thought it looked like an accident waiting to happen.”

She blushes even more and he thinks the color suits her well. “I can’t believe I wasn’t paying attention.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Like I said, no harm done. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve watched spill coffee all over their laptops because they weren’t paying attention.”

The girl blows out a long breath. “Well thank goodness I didn’t do that. I mean, I don’t have my laptop with me, but I would have been really upset if I spilled on this.”

Bellamy cranes his neck so he can see the notepad and his jaw almost drops. A drawing done in pencil sprawls across the paper, perfectly depicting the coffee shop around him, down to the tiniest details, including Bellamy’s smile as he hands a customer their coffee.

Now it’s his turn to blush. “Wow, this is… this is amazing.”

“You think so?!” the girl exclaims. “I’ve been practicing for ages, but after I got turned down for art school I kind of took a break and then it was just recently I thought I might try again and I’m so glad that it’s not trash…”

She trails off and blinks a few times. “Oh… sorry. I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy smirks. “It’s kind of cute.”

And there’s that blush spreading like wildfire across her skin again.

“I’m Bellamy, by the way,” he chuckles, holding out his hand.

She smiles a little shyly, but her eyes are bright as she takes it. “I’m Clarke.”

_ Pain dogs their footsteps, _

_ A path born of spite. _

_ Only one can save them, _

_ A child of the light. _

Miller teases him too now. They all do. Octavia is still the worst, but Murphy and Roma definitely pick up the slack when she isn’t there. Every shift is filled with constant jabs as Bellamy keeps an eye out for a flash of golden hair. And as soon as Clarke shows up, it’s all winking and nudging until she leaves.

Bellamy really doesn’t mind. He’s too busy finding excuses to go out and clean tables in Clarke’s area as slowly as possible.

“Want me to go dump some garbage over there, Blake?” Murphy yells as Bellamy catches himself staring wistfully at Clarke’s table again.

“Shut up, Murphy,” he snaps. But their bickering makes Clarke smile, so Bellamy refrains from killing his snarky co-worker. For now.

It isn’t until Octavia breaks some unexpected news to him that Bellamy realizes he’s in way over his head.

“She’s a what?”

Octavia dips her rag into the bucket of soapy water and wrings it out methodically again, before wiping down another table.

“A priestess of Athena. Sworn to celibacy. You know how that works.”

Bellamy jabs the tile floor with his mop a little harder than necessary. “Yes O, I know how that works.”

“Don’t get snappy with me!” Octavia hisses back. She flicks droplets of lukewarm water at him. “You’re the one who kept insisting that you weren’t interested. If you weren’t so dense you could have found it out for yourself. Or I could have told you earlier. But nooo….”

Bellamy rolls his eyes and strategically mops his way away from his sister. “Remind me again why I have to close with you?”

“Because you won’t let me get rides home from anyone else.” Octavia throws her rag back into the bucket with a little too much force. “So that one’s on you too, big brother.”

She stomps her way into the back room, purposefully treading over his freshly mopped floor. Bellamy groans and leans his forehead on the butt of his mop handle. 

Of course he fell head over heels for a priestess of Athena. Of course.

He would just have to get control over himself. It was just a crush. A stupid silly crush. It would be over in a flash.

_ Where light meets the dark, _

_ They bite and they claw. _

_ The harder the journey, _

_ The harder the fall. _

Months drag on and Clarke becomes a regular in the shop. Bellamy finally bullies his friends into minimum teasing, but it does nothing to keep him from teasing himself. Every glance in her direction, every conversation with her that set his insides alight with hope, is all just a shovel he’s using to dig his own grave.

“Is everything okay?” Clarke asks as he rings her up at the register one day.

His sudden glance up at her must be filled with an emotion she doesn’t want to touch because instead of waiting for an answer she grabs her coffee and wordlessly scurries back to her normal table.

Bellamy could smack himself. It’s not her fault that he can’t keep it in his pants.

He chews at the inside of his cheek as he mulls that thought over. 

If he’s being honest, it’s not even really about...  _ that _ . It’s just…. Clarke. When he talks to her it feels so natural, like she’s a missing puzzle piece that slots into his soul perfectly. The best friend he never knew he was missing. A light in his dark and generally rocky life.

_ Man up and get over yourself, Blake. _

He sighs and almost reluctantly heads over to Clarke’s table. She keeps her eyes studiously on her drawing pad as he approaches.

“Hey… Clarke, listen…”

“I need your help,” she says quickly. She grabs his arm and yanks him down into the booth next to her. Bellamy’s apology stutters in his throat, words forgotten as his brain short-circuits. For a split second the whole world contracts to just the feel of Clarke’s cool hand on his arm.

“I’ve tried to get the coloring right for this piece, but it’s just not coming together,” Clarke whines. “I need an expert.”

Bellamy blinks in bewilderment at the colored sketch of a coffee mug that she shoves in front of his nose. The swirling lines that make up the actual coffee are still a blank white.

“An… expert?” he asks, haltingly.

“Yeah,” she perks up. If he didn’t know any better he’d think there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “A coffee expert.”

She pushes her pack of colored pencils his way, the section of browns, tans, and neutrals pulled out slightly as if she’s been rummaging through them.

Bellamy blinks at them again. “I don’t know how to draw though.”

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you,” Clarke chirps.

She seems so overly cheery after basically fleeing from him at the register. Bellamy is more than a little suspicious, but her smile beckons him to select a dark brown, just a shade shy of black.

He hesitantly sets the point of the pencil on the white space and then pauses again.

Clarke shifts knowingly, leaning behind his shoulder and resting her hand on the top of his own so her fingers were wrapped lightly around the pencil as well.

“It’s okay,” she repeats softly. Her breath ghosts across his ear and a wave of goosebumps run down his spine.

Gently, Clarke guides his hand as he begins to fill in the light outline. After a few minutes he starts to relax, enough to stop and pick out a light cream color to start shading the foam bubbles.

Clarke lets her fingers sweep up to rest on his wrist.

“You’re a natural,” she breathes.

He turns to look her in the eye and suddenly their faces are incredibly close together. His eyes dart down to her lips and then back up as his brain turns to mush.

_ Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. _

Clarke seems similarly petrefied, although her lips are parted slightly and she still has a shine to her eyes that he’s never seen before.

“I…”

_ Stop it, stop it, stop it… _

“I need to get back to work,” he says, shoving himself out of the booth abruptly. A shadow passes across Clarke’s face, but he turns on his heel before he can dive back in and kiss her.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he mutters, almost as an afterthought.

He doesn’t hear her reply.

The clock has never moved so slowly as it does for the rest of the day. Bellamy feels Clarke’s gaze on him as he moves restlessly back and forth behind the counter. It’s a particularly slow day, usually the kind of day he would take advantage of to go hang out with her. But apparently his brain has decided to interpret everything as flirtatious, even though she clearly isn’t interested. Right?

He wants to sneak his own glance at her, but has no idea what he would do if he made eye contact with her again. If she was any one else he would say it was blatantly obvious that she’d been flirting with him. But this was Clarke. This was a priestess with a vow. And he was just a lonely idiot.

Bellamy ends up sending Miller and Roma home early, leaving only himself to close up the shop as it draws close to eight o’clock. There hasn’t been a new customer in hours. In fact, it’s only Clarke left, not even pretending to sketch anymore.

She sits stiffly, arms crossed, eyes burning holes in his back. Bellamy steadfastly continues scrubbing counters and mopping floors. Closing time comes and goes and Clarke doesn’t move. Bellamy finishes taking the garbage out and realizes that he’s out of tasks and excuses. Thankfully, Clarke finally rips the band-aid off herself.

“What did I do wrong?” she asks. Her voice is much stonier than he’s ever heard it.

Bellamy clenches his jaw until it aches.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, trying to sound reassuring.

“Bullshit,” she spits out.

Bellamy is taken aback at her anger as she slides out of her booth and approaches him.

“You’ve been blowing me off for a while, but today especially. What’s going on?”

She crosses her arms again and tilts her head in expectation as he scrambles for an excuse.

“I… I’ve just been busy lately and I have a lot of stuff going on with O and…”

“Bull. Shit.” Her face is red a bright red, eyes ablaze.

“Clarke…” he tries again, but she raises her hand to stop him.

“I thought…” She licks her lips nervously and starts again. “I thought you liked me. But if I misread, just tell me instead of letting me make a fool of myself.”

Bellamy’s mouth drops open slightly. “Like you?”

“Yes!” She takes a breath and pulls herself back slightly. “At least it seemed like there was something there…”

“Clarke, you idiot, I adore you.”

She blinks at him, dumbfounded. He gives an exasperated huff and runs a hand through his hair distractedly.

“But your vow to Athena… I just thought there was no chance.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “I never told you about that.”

“Octavia did,” he admits.

Clarke scoffs and then draws closer tentatively. “Well… that’s true. I took a vow. But..”

She takes one more step and lays her hand on his arm again.

“But what?” he asks breathlessly, leaning closer as if drawn by a magnet.

She smirks and raises an eyebrow. “I’m an adult and I can make my own choices.”

Bellamy can’t help but grin back at her. “Okay? But what about your vow? And your priesthood?”

Clarke shrugs. “Maybe I’m not as cut out for it as I thought.” She looks him in the eye and there is absolute fire in her gaze. “Or maybe I decided you’re worth it.”

Bellamy’s fingers at the nape of her neck are firm, tugging her just a little bit closer. He gives her just enough of a questioning space so she can close the rest of the gap herself. Her lips meet his and it really is like fire, burning so fiercely that it takes his breath away. His soul is a storm and she is his lightning, blending seamlessly, yet crackling and clashing against sharp edges. Then she tilts her head just slightly and they practically melt together, her sunshine hot against his shadow. 

When she pulls back, he is breathless and she looks more than pleased with herself.

“Want to get out of here?” he finally asks, unable to keep himself from running his hands down her arms.

She winks at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

_ A piece of a soul, _

_ A half now made whole, _

_ A heart made of fire, _

_ The darkness desires. _

Days.

Weeks.

Clarke doesn’t come back to the shop. She doesn’t answer his texts or calls.

Bellamy knows he’s a brooding mess, but he doesn’t care. Everything feels off balance without Clarke in her usual corner. Without her sketches and paintings to add splashes of color to his life, everything fades back to shadows.

Octavia rolls her eyes at him and tells him to get over it and what did he expect sleeping with a priestess anyways? Miller is a little more sympathetic, but still doesn’t really understand. Roma is downright pitying, which Bellamy hates more than anything. And Murphy is so insufferable about the whole thing that Bellamy has to go out of his way to schedule them on opposite shifts.

“I just don’t get it,” he says to Octavia for the umpteenth time in the last month. “It was her idea. She initiated everything, I swear.”

“Well maybe you’re just not as good in bed as you think you are,” Octavia smirks from the other side of the counter.

Bellamy can’t even muster up the energy to glare at her.

“She was amazing, O. I would take it back just to have her here as a  _ friend _ again. She…” He bites his tongue before he says something really stupid.

Still the way Octavia tilts her head at him makes him think that she understands what he’s too embarrassed to say out loud.

“Keep it together, big brother,” she says simply, but there’s more warmth in her voice than usual.

It feels fitting that the conversation should be turning point, so he’s almost not surprised when Octavia comes bursting through the door the next morning.

“It’s your day off, Octavia,” he says confusedly as she runs up to the counter, face white as a sheet.

“Bell, I’ll cover for you,” she gasps. “There’s something you need to see.” She pauses long enough to gulp in a very deep breath. “Outside. Right now.”

Usually he would argue with her over such vague instructions, but something about her voice makes him untie his apron without another word and walk outside.

He’s not expecting Clarke to be standing just outside the door. With a blindfold wrapped around her eyes.

“Clarke?”

Her head perks up, but she hastily steps back. “Bellamy.” Her voice is panicked. “Don’t… just stay there…”

He takes another step before his mind begins to register details. Clarke’s skin is tinged with green; dark green blooms of color seem to sprout from somewhere inside her, as if she’s taken one of her oil paints and scattered droplets under her own skin.

Her golden hair is gone too; replaced by a mass of earthen colored dreadlocks that are coiled haphazardly on her head.

But still it’s Clarke and her voice still makes something warm rise up inside him.

“Clarke, what happened? I’ve been so worried…”

“I said don’t, Bellamy,” she cries out so sharply that he halts. She reaches up and pats at the thick black blindfold as if reassuring herself it’s there. “I need you to stay back. I just wanted to come and… and say goodbye.”

“Say goodbye?” His throat goes dry in fear. “No, Clarke, let’s talk about this. I’m sure everything is okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” her voice rises almost hysterically. A low rumble of thunder in the distance punctuates her fearful cry.

Bellamy raises his hands placatingly, even though she can’t see him.

“Okay, well talk to me then. Tell me what’s going on.”

She doesn’t say anything, but he hears a tell-tale sob and realizes she’s crying behind the blindfold. He instinctively takes another step.

“Clarke, please.”

The cold wind picks up stirring Clarke’s strangely heavy locks until they seem to coil almost on their own.

Clarke doesn’t seem to notice, chest heaving with her tears.

“It was Athena,” she finally manages to spit out. Bellamy’s heart sinks.

“Clarke… what did she do?”

Clarke shivers as thunder rolls across the sky again. “She confronted me about breaking my vow and when I told her that I was giving up the priesthood she…”

Clarke can’t continue as she merely gestures to herself.

Bellamy takes another step as the rain begins to pour down and suddenly Clarke’s hair comes alive.

The stony locks uncoil swiftly, almost as if awakened by the rain. They slither over and atop of each other until the ends come into sight and Bellamy is faced with over a dozen hissing snakes.

He freezes in panic. “Clarke?”

She holds out her hand. “Don’t come any closer, Bellamy. I don’t want to hurt you!”

“She turned you into a gorgon?” he asks, aghast. Lightening flickers off the stony scales of Clarke’s snakes. They continue to writhe around her shoulders, seeming to react to her stormy emotions.

Clarke folds her arms close to herself as the rain soaks her thoroughly. “Yes,” she whispers so softly that Bellamy can hardly hear her. “She made me a monster.”

“Clarke.” He finally gets close enough to catch her wrist. She flinches, but then leans into his touch as he earnestly strokes his fingers across her pulse point.

“You’re not a monster,” he says. “If she wasn’t willing to let you go on your terms, then she’s the monster not you. She’s to blame.”

Clarke whimpers and tries to turn away, but Bellamy reaches out and grasps her chin softly. “Hey. You’re not a monster. You’re not.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers.

Bellamy reaches out and slowly lifts the blindfold from her eyes. Her deadly, dangerous, beautiful eyes. And as he does he kisses her with every scrap of love for Clarke Griffin he can find in his heart.

Her eyes grow wide with shock and then she shudders and melts into his arms. He showers her with kiss after kiss until they are both breathless and she finally pulls back blinking him at amazement.

“How… how?”

He smiles. “Oh. Did I neglect to mention a little curse I was born with?”

_ Stare death in the eye, _

_ To truly begin, _

_ A life in the light _

_ With true love within. _

_ -The curse of the Blakes, to be born by each passing generation until broken by the light _

**Author's Note:**

> Written using the Chopped 1.0 Tropes because even though I missed this challenge the first time around, I really needed some good prompts to jump start my writing juices this week!
> 
> Tropes
> 
> 1\. Mythical Creature! One (1) of the characters in your main ship must be a mythical creature of your choosing!  
> 2\. Coffeeshop AU  
> 3\. One character of your main ship must teach the other how to do something. Physical touch during the encounter is required.  
> 4\. Kiss in the rain!
> 
> Probably going to do more of these from Chopped 1.0 because I suck at coming up with good prompts on my own!!!


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